


Because You Asked

by clearascountryair



Series: Magnificence [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, References to canonical non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearascountryair/pseuds/clearascountryair
Summary: Fitz and Simmons prepare for their first night in space





	Because You Asked

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to agentcalliope for beta-ing

She wondered if they would ever sit in any order outside of alphabetical order again.  Alphabetization was brilliant for chemicals and books.  But not people.

Maybe that was just space station life.

A tall man in a finely pressed uniform walked into the room and stood before them.  He opened the file in his hands.  “Agent Mackenzie.”

The whole team froze and the man repeated himself.  Mack sighed and stood.

“Yes, sir?”

“How would you define your position within S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“My position?”

“Yes, Agent Mackenzie.  You were trained as a mechanic and came up through the Academy of Science and Technology.  However, your file suggests that you abandoned mechanics in favor of being a field specialist.”

Mack stared.  “That’s...simplistic.”  He paused before adding, “sir.”

“So which do you consider yourself, Agent Mackenzie?”

For a moment, Mack said nothing.  Elena leaned forward and Jemma put a hand on her knee.

“I fight for S.H.I.E.L.D.” Mack said.  “That’s been my profession since the start.”

The man nodded and marked something in his file.  “A field specialist it is.”

He left without another word.  After a moment of silence, Daisy cleared her throat.

“Can’t imagine there’s much need for a shotgun-axe in space.”

“There’s always need for a shotgun-axe.”

The door swung back open and a short woman walked in.

“There are three dormitory sections on this base,” she said, without looking up from her file.  “You will be placed based on the proximity to the work you will be doing here.  When I have finished listing your section, you will take the bag labelled with your name and go down the marked corridor.  If a room has a green light over the door, it’s up for grabs.  If it’s red, you can figure it out.  Section A: Coulson, Phillip.”  She paused and briefly glanced up at Coulson.  “You may go.”

Coulson stood.  “Really?  Just me?”

She gestured to the bags.  “Section A.   Section B: Johnson, Daisy; Mackenzie, Alphonso; May, Melinda; Rodriguez, Elena.”

It was only her and Fitz left and Jemma couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.  The woman caught her and, to Jemma’s surprised, smiled.

“And you must be Fitzsimmons.”

“We are.”

“Section C, then.  Goodnight.”

Jemma stood and picked up the bags that said “J. Simmons” and “L. Fitz.”

“Come on, Fitz.  You need to sleep.  And shower.”  

He stood, eyes downcast, and walked wordlessly towards.  Forcing herself to smile, she led the way down the corridor.  Outside the first green-lit room, she paused.  

“What do you need?” she asked, certain that any more specificity would kill her.  She stopped and turned around to face him.

Fitz only managed to nod, but didn’t look at her.

“Fitz, I...I’m here.  In whatever capacity you need me.  Be that in your bed  or...or down the hall.”  Despite her best efforts, her voice cracked.

Fitz looked up.  “Please?” he asked.  He pushed the door open and waited for her to walk in first.

It was a small room, dark with a single desk and twin bed.  

“Um, wait here,” Fitz said.  He turned and went out the door.

Jemma stood there, still holding both their bags, and waited.  A moment later, there was a loud screech of metal on metal.  

“Fitz?”  She walked to the doorway and saw Fitz pushing the bed out of the room across the hall.

“It’s, um, it’s small.”

She smiled softly.  “That’s a brilliant idea, Fitz.”

He shrugged.  “This is...is this okay?”

“It’s brilliant.”  She set the bags down on the desk as Fitz finished pushing the bed into the room and up against the other.  “I’ll make the bed.  Unpack everything.  You should go shower.  You need a shave.”

Fitz shook his head.  “I…” he began and trailed off.  He lifted his hands and held them out before him.  They were shaking harder than she had seen them shake in a long time. “Help?”

Moving slowly, Jemma raised her hands, the backs of her hands hovering just before Fitz’s open palms.  Holding her breath, she waited until his fingers closed around hers.

“I love you, Fitz,” she said.  “Always.”

Fitz swallowed and nodded.  His eyes searched her face for something to say and, had the past few weeks never happened, she would have kissed him.  A soft reminder that they’ve never needed words to communicate.  Instead, she said:

“I need you, more than ever, to read my mind right now and know how much I trust you and how completely in love with you I am.  Forever.”

She expected half-committed nod in response.  Instead, he said:

“You aren’t the last person to have kissed me,” and his voice broke.

Jemma felt her own body begin to tremble and she shook her head frantically, willing him to meet her eyes.  “It wasn’t real, Fitz.  I know it feels real and I know you remember it, but she-- _it_ played a game in your head--”

“ _You were dead!_ ” His words spilled out in a hysterical sob.  “Your stupid, _stupid_ LMD with your face and your voice and your _eyes_.  She dropped you to the ground and she…"

He stood there hyperventilating and for a moment, Jemma could only stare.  Finally, unable to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around him.

“You can tell me to let go,” she whispered.

“Please don’t.  Not ever.”  He buried his face in her neck and cried until her legs shook under his weight.

She didn’t care.  She would hold him until they collapsed or the universe swallowed them whole and left them tumbling through space with nothing but each other and the stars.  That was all they needed, really.

Eventually, Fitz lifted his head and pressed his left cheek against hers.

“Is this because of your hand,” she couldn’t help but ask, “or is to erase it?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I don’t like it.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Please?”

Without another word, she took his hand, allowing him to tighten the grip, and began walking towards the bathroom.  The bathroom consisted of a single shower stall and a long row of identical gray robes.

“Seems they’ve given us all the amenities,” Jemma said.

Fitz smiled.

As the water warmed, Jemma began to remove her clothes.  When she was down to her underwear, she looked up.  Fitz was still fully dressed, looking down at his feet.  She grabbed one of the robes and put it on.

“Fitz,” she said softly.

Although he lifted his head, he continue to avert his eyes.

“Fitz, what I said before…”  She took a deep breath.  “Yes, Fitz, most of it happened in a virtual reality.  Not here in the physical world.  But you have memories of it and that makes certain parts undeniably true.  She violated you.  Totally and completely.  Physically, emotionally, and, I promise, whatever you feel right now, you have every right to feel.  Whatever you want to call it, Fitz, that’s what happened.”

Biting her lower lip, she took a careful step towards him.  “I need you to know, Fitz, that I will never, _never_ look at you in any way you don’t want me to look at you.  And I will never touch you in a way you don’t want me to touch you.  But you can’t shower in your clothes.  So I can go back to the room, if you want.  And you can come get me when you’re ready to shave?”

Between Fitz’s silence and the steam, the air in the room was so thick, Jemma was sure she would collapse.  But, after eons, Fitz’s eyes met hers.  Slowly, he held out his hand.

“I love you,” he said and began to cry.  “I’m scared.”

She took his hand.  “I’m here.”

He brought her hand to his lips, barely grazing the knuckles, before placing her fingers on the buttons of his shirt.  “My hands…”

She nodded.  “Okay.”  Without breaking eye contact, she helped him undress, smiling softly when he pushed the robe from her shoulders.  They showered quickly, well aware that the water could only wash away sweat and dirt and tears.  Finally back in the robes, Jemma held Fitz’s razor delicately in her hand and contemplated where to start.

“Here,” Fitz told her, pressing his fingers low on his left cheek.  “Please?”

Nodding wordlessly, Jemma slid the razor along his skin and rinsed it under the sink.  After a few slow strokes, Fitz held up a hand.  Gently, he pressed his first two fingers to her lips and put his thumb below her chin.

“Okay?” he asked.

She shut her eyes and kissed the pads of his fingers, smiling.

“Could you?”

She nodded and kissed his fingers again.  “Always,” she breathed.

Slowly, he drew her towards him, releasing her face at his jaw and taking her hand.  She squeezed lightly before pressing a soft kiss to the newly exposed skin on his face.

“Better?”

He nodded and tilted his head, silently asking her to, please, kiss him again.  So she did.

“There,” she whispered against him.  “In every world, you were last kissed by me.  In every world, you were last kissed because you asked to be.”

 

 


End file.
